


promises promises

by polkadot



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 22:45:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1322014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polkadot/pseuds/polkadot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There isn’t a boy in the world who could come between Laura and Genie. But sometimes no boys are needed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	promises promises

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this Telegraph article](http://www.telegraph.co.uk/sport/tennis/10682073/Laura-Robson-swaps-coach-again-and-opts-for-experience-with-Colombian-Mauricio-Hadad.html) that says the relationship between Laura & Genie has become "icy", and by the fact that they've stopped interacting with each other on Twitter (like they used to do all the time). We're all hoping they make up soon, if they're having difficulties - they really have been friends since girlhood - but I couldn't help wondering what they might've fallen out over, after all these years of friendship?

“What’d you fall out over, a boy?” Heather asks her, chummy and offhand.

Laura looks down at the pudding menu. Judy’s the only one who can order at will from these – the rest of them tend to stay with something safe, unless it’s their birthday or they’re injured or some other reason for straying from their nutrition plan. She doesn’t obsess over her diet like some of her friends, but usually she doesn’t have a problem sticking to the programme; today she suddenly wants all the chocolate in the world.

A boy? Fall out with Genie over a boy?

She tries to imagine it. Who would they even fight over? Milos, who treats them like kid sisters, who offers to hit with them and then bombs down serves and laughs like an arse until they pelt him with balls and make him play them two-on-one? The thought’s just ridiculous. Bernie, who was going to play mixed with Genie at the Australian until he injured his fool self, and who then showed up on crutches to watch Genie’s singles match? But Bernie’s in love with that swimmer of his, however much he may try to act nonchalant about it, and Laura just wants to pat his sad silly face and tell him things will get better – his kid sister Sara will grow up soon, and then it’ll be safe for him to cut ties with his abusive dad and shack up with James and (possibly) play better tennis as a happy wanker than he does right now as a sad wanker. She certainly doesn’t want to date him, though.

(Possibly the reason that Heather’s suggestion seems so odd is that Laura needs better male friends.)

She might possibly have fallen out with Genie over Roger, whom they both love unreservedly, if Roger hadn’t been umpty-million years old (though still quite fine) and, more importantly, madly in love with Mirka. Laura may have a folder of Roger pictures on her computer that are, if not exactly explicit, still guaranteed to make her go weak at the knees, but she’s not horrible enough to try to seduce a man that happy away from his beloved. (Besides, she’s more or less sure Mirka would destroy her. Mirka looks like the kind of woman who could end her with a single text on her trusty Blackberry.) Baby-Fed’s out for similar reasons – Maria’s scary enough on court, ta muchly. Even if Grigor’s pretty enough for three normal people, all long limbs and flexible splits and attractive smile and dark hair and classical features.

Fall out with Genie over a boy? It’d be funny. Except it’s not.

“I know it’s not my business,” Heather says, faint worry line between her brows, her offhand manner failing, “but you’ve been looking a little down lately, and I just wondered.”

Everyone knows she and Genie have been best friends since they were kids. Years and years of sharing laughter and escapades and confidences, hotel rooms and houses and coaches, untold thousands of text messages and more selfies than Laura can count.

“Well, you know,” Laura says, lightly. “It’s hard to be cheerful when you’re injured.”

Heather looks at her, hard, but drops it. They turn back to the pudding menus.

There isn’t a boy in the world who could come between Laura and Genie. Not Milos, not Bernie, not Fed or Grigor or those cute Aussie boys.

But sometimes no boys are needed.

She texts Genie when she gets home from lunch with Heather, texts her for the first time in weeks. _i miss u_ , she writes, and feels the ache of it.

[She only kissed Genie the one time, impulsive and brief and shy. Her mouth was dry, her hands clammy; her heart raced like mad when Genie kissed her back, surprised and warm. It was a perfect moment, and the butterflies in her stomach were more excited than nervous when it ended. She may not have been the most knowledgeable about teenage crushes – playing tennis year-round never left much time for those sorts of things – but she knew how she felt about Genie, and she knew Genie'd kissed her back, and if two nineteen-year-olds couldn't take it from there, well…

Genie drew away, her face conflicted, pulling her hands out of Laura’s, and Laura felt the happy, flirty “Want to go see a film?” die on her lips.]

She wishes Heather was right, that they’d fallen out over a boy. It’d be easier than this. No boy could have kept them apart this long – Genie would’ve been back long ago, laughing about how stupid they’d been, how no boy could ever be worth their friendship. 

But Genie said she needed time, and Laura’s giving it to her.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have sent that text. Perhaps Genie will respond by going out on a date with Ernie Gulbis. Laura already knows she has horrible taste in men – Justin Bieber, really? There’s national pride, and then there’s going entirely too far, and Justin Bieber is definitely the latter. Surely Laura’s better than _Bieber_.

(Genie kissed her back. Laura knows she didn’t misread the signs.)

Practice is difficult. Again. Laura feels like she’s been through more coaches and more injuries than most people have in a lifetime, and she’s only just turned 20. Meanwhile Genie made the semifinals of the Australian Open a couple of months ago, and ever since she’s been the golden girl of the WTA. Laura’s happy for her, she really is. She doesn’t envy Genie the success; she just wishes she could be at Genie’s side for it, laughing and teasing and merry, like they used to dream as kids.

She goes home and raids her mum’s chocolate stash, watches a Federer match. “You’re the only man I’d turn straight for,” she tells his majestic figure, mock-solemnly, and then sighs when he fails to convert a handful of break points. Some things never change. His backhand, however, does cheer her up, and his back end, as Genie used to roguishly say. Such a pity Mirka got there first.

Her phone buzzes as she’s brushing her teeth.

_miss u too_ , it says.

Laura runs a finger over the words, hardly daring to hope.

_so if maria puts out a hit on me for that photoshoot w grigor do u think itll be a bag of poisoned sugarpova_

Laura laughs, leaning against the wall. _maybe_ , she types. _or shell just kill u on court with her glare or hit u w the ball_

_i cn deal w her on court_ , Genie shoots back immediately. _just dont want to give up sugarpova bc that shit is tasty_

_you have odd taste_ , Laura tells her, because she personally thinks Sugarpova is vile.

There’s a little pause before Genie replies. Laura looks in the mirror and notices that she has toothpaste on her cheek. She doesn’t really care. Genie’s talking to her again, and that’s all that matters.

_yes i do_ , Genie finally replies. _i like u after all_

Laura’s grinning now. She does a little fist-pump at herself in the mirror and then feels appalled at herself. But there’s no one here to see. So she does it again.

_abysmal taste_

There’s another long pause, and Laura begins to think Genie’s done for now. It’s a start, though. She’ll go to bed much happier tonight. She’ll get over her crush in time, as long as it doesn’t lose her one of her closest friendships along with it.

Her phone buzzes again.

_if u were my gf wld u protect me from maria and poisoned sugarpova ?_

_what did u DO to grigor?!!!_ Laura asks. Her heart’s pounding in her chest.

_nothing_ , Genie texts back, and Laura can hear the eye roll. _hes pretty but hes no federer_

_obviously, there is only 1 federer and roger is his name_ , Laura texts, indignantly, then adds, before she can chicken out, _if i was ur gf id buy u sugarpova evry day, no poison_

Her phone rings.

“Promises, promises,” Genie says, her voice playful but rough around the edges.

Laura closes her eyes, smiling wider than she ever has before.


End file.
